Home Read What's New Join
My Account Login

Read Our Devotional             2016 Opportunities to be Published             Detailed Navigation

The HOME for Christian writers! The Home for Christian Writers!
The Official Writing Challenge



how it works
submission rules
guidelines for
choosing a level


submit your entry
read current entries
read past entries
challenge winners

Our Daily Devotional HERE
Place it on your site or
receive it daily by email.



how it works   Submit

Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Singing (10/31/05)

TITLE: Amazon's Cry
By Karen Rice


The star-tossed sky shake firefly children loose with a prayer and a kiss. Lighting trails from heaven earthward, the emissaries of dreams fragment to confetti, dancing across the water's surface, across the gently rocking boat, out to lands unseen.

The boat I am on rocks as it cuts through the riverís surface. I am nervous. Feeling inadequate. Saying yes to God is easy; trusting to do Godís work is harder. I am afraid I will let Him down. And yet....

Earlier, excitement shook sleep from this first night of my trip. A breathtaking sunset unfurled bannered color over rolling hills, spilling to spread a reflective blanket protectively over the deep chocolate river. Highlighted thin-gauzed muted tones of cottony fog sewed pastel lacy edges gracefully over the rainforest. Draping into the water, the current pulled, lapping to fray gray lace. It was incredibly difficult to tear my eyes from this horizon standing tall, for I wanted to linger there, visually soaking all in.

Restless, unable to sleep, my mind refuses to shut down. Why is it that I hedge in prayer choices? I want to help. I want to be an effective witness through action. I want to used and useful and do so joyfully, sharing that this is done for His Glory. Yet Satan prods, testing needles against my weaknesses. Iím not sure I can do this. What if I fail? There are many more Christians who listen and move without stumbling, arenít there? Should God trust me?

Or can I trust what God has given in this opportunity, and simply go with it??


I dress quietly and layer insect repellent to skin as an invisible armor, and then open the cabin door. Humidity stirs rich, thick. Breathing deeply, I try to identify the personality of this land. We must be drawing closer to a village. The unique characters of aromas separate into smoky curled undertones of cooking fires blended with newly blossomed buds of citrus, scented wild orchids and numerous unknown other plants recovering from the now receding floodwaters.

The high mountains of The Andes birth the Amazon River. It stretches into life eastward cutting through a continent. Breaking into smaller rivers, the Grandchildren of the Amazon wanderlusts, fickle in mapping, sending fingers to tangle into tiny threads where hidden villages, separated often by hundreds of miles live.

Having volunteered as part of a Medical Missionary Team, much of the confidence of preplanning has been replaced by trepidations of unworthiness. Needing time to sort my feelings from Godís reality, I cling to the damp metal railing, working my way to the bow of this craft. The noise of the boatís engine rattles, vibrating all but bolts loose. Suddenly, like an old dog settling down for the night, it muffles, groans then sighs to sleep. The mosquitoes, startled, winks windowed light free then recovers, frantically sheeting to nearly black the boatís beam. Thankful that their attention is drawn not on me as fast food, my attention is drawn forward.

Carefully leaning over the railing, I hold tight. Knowing that the waters swim with Piranha, crocodiles and snakes, I still dare to shrink tunnel vision to the in-between, for the jeweled sky breathes life below and I need to see more.

Standing on tiptoe, I swallow fear. Using the edges of my tee shirt, I wipe condensation from the beam and straddle over metal, sitting on the fence.

I sigh, eyes drawn up then caress downward.

The stars crinoline clothing rustle light in anticipation, watchful of the fireflies reflective sparkle across the mirrored river. This tributary, child of Rio Nanay, grandchild of the Amazonís floor is softly dusted in moonlight.

A babyís cry pierces through the night, echoing proof that we are near our first morningís destination. Purity of tone, it too washes across the sky, sparkling activity from the messenger fireflies to the waiting stars. Orchestrated as first strands, the child-sounds lift, searching for harmony among unknown notes, tempting edged dreams of dawn.

Swatting at the most stubborn of mosquitoes, I wobble on my perch, swinging my feet high above the dance floor. Clinging tightly, I stretch my toes out, wanting to fully participate. Yet, I hesitate.

The boat gently nudges against a pillowed shore. Dawn overtures nightís velvet curtains slowly up, and the exterior lights dim. Still watchful, still focused, anticipation settles over the sky and all eyes, crinoline dressed, winged, and those hidden with fisted needles wait.

I jump.

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.

This article has been read 704 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Karen Jimmy11/07/05
I've always wanted to see Brazil and the Amazon, and your story was beautifully poetic and visual. I could see what you described, feel the sticky heat and hear the mosquitoes. I could also identify with the feelings of the character. Really well done! i did notice a couple of spots where maybe you dropped a word accidentally or some cases where perhaps you used the wrong tense on a word, so i'd just recommend you make sure to give your piece a good throrough check before you click submit. humblest apologies if you did that and if i've completely misunderstood what you were attempting! I really liked your story.
Helga Doermer11/07/05
Your imagery is incredibly sensory - so lush that I can feel, hear, smell and see it.
Jan Ackerson 11/09/05
Beautiful, beautiful imagery. The tie-in to "singing" is nearly buried, but I found it...the best word to describe this is "lush." Thanks for writing.
Sally Hanan11/09/05
A gifted writer...try to tighten up your descriptions as too much of it loses the whole point of the story. You should try your hand at poetry too, your word uses and sentence structures definitely leans to the beautifully poetic.
Brandi Roberts11/09/05
Some good descriptions here! Well written! Thanks for sharing!
Debbie Sickler11/09/05
I agree with the others. Your descriptive language was very poetic, and lush is the perfect word for it, but in some places it overwhelmed the overall story. Not too bad for a level jumper though! he he he
Anita Neuman11/10/05
Emotive and realistic - I'll say it, too: very poetic. A paradox of writing - your descriptions can actually be more vivid with fewer words; pick the punchiest adjectives and pare down the rest. You'll be moving up through the levels (intentionally) in no time!
dub W11/12/05
An over abundance of description, but well portrayed, a realistic entry, much like a personal journal. Thanks for posting.
Pat Guy 11/12/05
Sally's comment is perfect! And I'd like to add, 'Boy! Not bad for a level jumper!" :) Just 'tighten it up' and you'll be on your way up! :)
Val Clark11/12/05
Loved the evocative and creative description in the first two sentences. You have a wonderfully poetic way with your choice of words. If you ever expanded this I would love to hear more of her inner journey. Yeggy